Robert Ariail sums up the GOP’s impeachment effort with a familiar expression, though he’s generous in assuming they even have a horse, even one they haven’t hitched up before that cart.
But the “Giddyap!” dialogue is instructive, because they are insistent that they’re ready to roll despite clear indications that they are not.
They’re hoping a horse will emerge, which suggests that maybe “fishing expedition” would be a more appropriate cliche, albeit one so worn out as to have lost its impact.
Bob Gorrell (Creators) lists the rumors that have surrounded the Bidens, claiming them as “evidence” despite the fact that some of them — the Burisma/prosecutor nonsense, for example — have been utterly disproven while several of the others have fallen apart because Congressional inquiries produced witnesses who couldn’t verify them, some witnesses who actually contradicted them and at least one witness they couldn’t even find.
Perhaps the GOP should try playing the Jan 6 Hearings backwards to see what clues may emerge, but the fact is, Paul McCartney is alive and well, despite people being able to hear “I buried Paul” on the record.
As Jack Ohman (Tribune) points out, the only “evidence” that has emerged from their hearings so far is that Hunter Biden bragged about his influence with his father but, according to the witness who they summoned in order to blow the lid off this thing, Hunter was blowing hot air and never got his father to buy into his fantasies.
Again, that was their witness who said that. You can’t tell the prosecution from the defense without a scorecard.
As RJ Matson notes, this doesn’t mean the GOP hasn’t got a plan. They’ve got plenty of them. The problem is that none of their plans include the legal prosecution of a defendant, unless you count busting Hunter for buying a gun despite being a drug user.
Which sounds as if the Republicans would approve a system of universal background checks and a crackdown (no pun intended) on the gun show loophole, but hold not your breath on that one, and it’s a good thing for them that their pals in the NRA only demand loyalty, not consistency.
Anyway, as that last panel makes clear, the goal is not an actual prosecution but simply a show to help stir up loyal voters, Dear Leader having consulted with his Congressional minions to help stage-manage the production.
Juxtaposition of the Day
Do this, don’t do that, can’t you read the signs? Well, Kevin McCarthy can, and there are few observers who think he is operating with any incentive other than maintaining his speakership and pleasing the extremist minority that holds the key to his reign.
This is a lovely juxtaposition: Telnaes sets it up, Smith knocks it down.
There’s a somewhat meaningless kerfuffle happening over the fact that McCarthy criticized Nancy Pelosi for announcing an impeachment inquiry before calling for a vote of the House on the matter, and he did tell Breitbart he wouldn’t do such a thing:
He blames, or credits, Pelosi with setting the precedent, a claim she called “hogwash” in part because there was a vote of the House later and in part because, when she announced the inquiry, she also announced the specific charge of meddling in Ukrainian affairs.
McCarthy, by contrast, has said the Biden impeachment is over some unspecified misuse of personal influence, a nebulous charge I’d back away from if I were a fan of Jared Kushner’s father-in-law.
The grim laugh in all this being that, as Adam Zyglis says, we know whose mouth the announcement truly came from and, in turn, what sort of flavored, sweetened beverage keeps those tonsils hydrated, though, truth be told, when McCarthy spoke, we could all see Gaetz’s lips moving.
That’s a well-packed cartoon, though what he couldn’t jam into it is the old familiar scene in which the spy, having told all he was sent to learn, is shot because nobody likes a turncoat, even when his perfidy benefits them.
So now, McCarthy having dutifully delivered up the impeachment as ordered, Gaetz & crew are threatening to take away his gavel over the upcoming budget battle, since they suspect him of wanting to avoid a government shut down.
Apparently, Harry Truman never actually said “If you want a friend in Washington, get a dog,” but it remains good advice because they cost less than congressmen and it’s easier to train them not to pee on the carpets.
In other news
There’s a series of cartoons by Teresa Burns Parkhurst at the New Yorker about Trump’s trials which is lots of fun and worth the click. It’s long enough that I dasn’t reproduce the whole thing here, but not so long that it will eat up a lot of your time: Go have a look.
I was at my nephrologist’s the other day and the issue of age and mortality came up, as it does at this age, even when what’s wrong with you is stable and the road ahead looks perfectly clear. I mentioned, though, that Jimmy Buffett had only been three or four years older than I am, and it gives one pause.
He said he’d given his students at the med school a test based on a case in which a Jimmy Buffett fan consumed a shaker of salt in tribute and then died of the resulting osmosis. He didn’t say how they did on the osmosis part, but he did report that none of them had ever heard of Jimmy Buffett.
So much for immortality, eh?
BTW, I always thought the lyric was “lost jigger of salt,” which is not only a better way to do the mas machista salt-lime-tequila thing, but, if you’re going to drink margaritas, better for rimming the glass.
I tend towards Roz Chast‘s view of mortality and suchlike, which is delightfully morbid.
She’s got a new book coming out, and, since I regularly rip off the title of her classic, here’s some repayment in the form of a solid interview with her. She’s a pip.
Anyway, I’ll bet those little over-educated post-graduate punks have never heard of the Weavers, either.